JOHN. Streak of blue luck!

CYNTHIA. [_Quickly._] I don't see how it's possible--

JOHN. You would if you'd been there. You remember the head man?
[_Sitting down._] Bloke?

CYNTHIA. Of course!

JOHN. Well, his wife divorced him for beating her over the head with a
bottle of Fowler's Solution, and it seemed to prey on his mind. He
sold me--

CYNTHIA. [_Horrified._] Sold a race?

JOHN. About ten races, I guess.

CYNTHIA. [_Incredulous._] Just because he'd beaten his wife?

JOHN. No. Because she divorced him.

CYNTHIA. Well, I can't see why that should prey on his mind!

[_Suddenly remembers._

JOHN. Well, I have known men that it stroked the wrong way. But he
cost me eighty thousand. And then Urbanity ran third in the
thousand-dollar stakes for two-year-olds at Belmont.

CYNTHIA. [_Throws this remark in._] I never had faith in that horse.

JOHN. And, of course, it never rains monkeys but it pours gorillas! So
when I was down at St. Louis on the fifth, I laid seven to three on
Fraternity--

CYNTHIA. Crazy! Crazy!

JOHN. [_Ready to take the opposite view._] I don't see it. With her
record she ought to have romped it an easy winner.

CYNTHIA. [_Her sporting instinct asserting itself._] She hasn't the
stamina! Look at her barrel!

JOHN. Well, anyhow, Geranium finished me!

CYNTHIA. You didn't lay odds on Geranium!

JOHN. Why not? She's my own mare--

CYNTHIA. Oh!

JOHN. Streak o' bad luck--

CYNTHIA. [_Plainly anxious to say "I told you so."_] Streak of poor
judgment! Do you remember the day you rode Billy at a six-foot stone
wall, and he stopped and you didn't, and there was a hornet's nest
[MATTHEW _rises._] on the other side, and I remember you were hot just
because I said you showed poor judgment? [_She laughs at the memory. A
general movement of disapproval. She remembers the situation._] I beg
your pardon.

MATTHEW. [_Rises to meet_ VIDA. _Hastily._] It seems to me that horses
are like the fourth gospel. Any conversation about them becomes
animated almost beyond the limits of the urbane! [VIDA, _disgusted by
such plainness of speech, rises and goes to_ PHILIP _who waves her to
a chair._

PHILIP. [_Formally._] I regret that you have endured such reverses,
Mr. Karslake. [JOHN _quietly bows._

CYNTHIA. [_Concealing her interest and speaking casually._] You
haven't mentioned your new English horse--Pantomime. What did he do at
St. Louis?

JOHN. [_Sitting down._] Fell away an